Ongoing
by Totally-Out-Of-It
Summary: Derek wakes up after the events of Unfinished. He finds he's healed and Scott sitting by him, but Stiles is...


**Ongoing**

_Derek wakes up after the events of Unfinished. He finds he's healed and Scott sitting by him, but Stiles is..._

...

...

The first thing Derek was aware of was the pain. It seared along his back and burned through his veins. A wounded howl tore from his throat. Everything from his heart to his fingernails hurt. He couldn't process anything beyond the pain. Just as it became unbearable, darkness took him once more.

...

...

Waking up the second time was better. There was only a vague twinge of pain from his back now. He was mostly healed. Derek pushed himself up from where he'd been lying face down on the wooden table, then paused. This was the kitchen table at Scott's house. Before losing consciousness, Derek remembered rain, damp forest earth, a silent heartbeat, rage.

This time the growl he let out was angry, his nails turning to claws.

"Derek, stop. You already destroyed the couch when we healed you."

Derek's growl stopped immediately and looked up from the wood to see Scott. His alpha was sitting in a chair against the wall. He looked pale, tired, and sad. It was all Derek needed to see.

"Stiles."

Scott's expression pinched before he shook his head. "We don't know yet," he revealed in a sigh. "Deaton and my mom got his heart beating but...it's so weak."

Derek nodded absently. Stiles was alive. Weak but alive. That was more than he could ask for. "What happened?"

"I heard your howl," Scott stated. "We all did. And when we found you...I thought both of you were dead. I thought we were too late."

There was a heavy weight on the young alpha's shoulders that reminded Derek of when his family had burned. It was a guilt for not arriving in time to save them. It was a hollow ache from being left by those you considered family.

"I didn't know what to do," Scott admitted softly. "I just knew we couldn't leave you there for them to find. I couldn't leave you. So...Ethan distracted the hunters and Isaac helped me...he carried you and I...Derek, Stiles heart wasn't beating," he choked out, shutting his eyes.

"Yeah," Derek agreed as he pushed himself off the table. "I remember."

He remembered bursting into the hunter hideout, following the scent of blood and fear and fighting. He remembered running and panting and hiding. He remembered the rain in his eyes and the cold feeling of Stiles' hold on him that kept him going. He remembered listening as that heartbeat, always a beat too fast and jumping, slowed to a crawl before falling completely silent. He remembered running out of time.

"Where is he?" he asked, looking into Scott's eyes.

...

...

Scott's bedroom was quiet. Stiles was impossibly still on the bed, chest barely moving with his tiny but quick silent breaths. The covers were pulled up to his chest, with his arms lying on top. He was pale, with bandages on his face and arms. He looked one forgotten breath from dying all over again. The sheriff was asleep in the desk chair, his head tilted back toward the ceiling and looking every kind of uncomfortable and exhausted.

Derek stood in the doorway, watching the miniscule rise and fall that signaled Stiles' breathing. This wasn't over. They were as safe as they possibly could be here, with Melissa and Deaton down the hall and the entire pack there to keep watch, and all the charms on the house beyond that. But Derek could smell the death that still clung to Stiles. The human was alive but barely, and only because of Deaton and Melissa.

Derek had tried so hard to be the protector his mother said he could be, but he'd failed. He hadn't been able to save Stiles. And even with the help of a nurse and an emissary, it might not be enough. Stiles was struggling to stay alive. There was a chance that he wouldn't make it. If only Derek were stronger...

Scott pushed at Derek until he took a step into the bedroom, then the younger male slipped around him and over to Stiles' side. The alpha grabbed hold of Stiles' hand and began to leech some of the pain away, hissing when black raced up his arm at barely a brush of skin to skin. Derek frowned. That was a lot of pain. He took a step closer to the bed but then reconsidered and stepped back again.

Looking up at him, Scott's eyebrows drew together. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Shaking his head, Derek focused on the sound of Stiles' heartbeat instead of Scott's arm.

"Dude," Scott sighed, sounding disappointed. "We talked about this. You can't keep stuff in. That's what caused all the problems with your last pack, and that's not how I work."

Derek rolled his shoulders just for something to do, and in an attempt to release some tension. It didn't work, though it let him know there was no pain left in his back. "I messed up. I ran in blind and that got both of us hurt."

Now Scott looked confused, like a dog that didn't know why you had taken it to the vet when you promised it the park.

"Are you blaming yourself?" he asked in a quiet, incredulous voice. Derek averted his eyes entirely. "That's-No. Derek, no. You found him." Scott pulled his hands from Stiles', ending the line of black in his veins. "We were all searching but you found him. You got him out. I'm sure he'll tell you off himself when he wakes up for being so lame."

Scott was up and across the room in the span of a heartbeat. He grabbed Derek by the shoulders and stared at him with an intense expression.

"You _saved_ him, Derek. Even if...," he faltered for a moment but just tightened his grip and kept going. "Even if he doesn't pull through...Derek, dying here is better than dying with them. You _know_ that. You got him back with us. That's important."

After a long moment, Derek turned to lock eyes with his alpha. Scott's eyes were glowing faintly red but he looked about to burst into tears. Derek didn't feel much better off.

"I listened to him die," he murmured, so quiet that if there had been another noise in the room it would've been lost. Scott's eyes widened. "I pulled him from that hell hole and tried to bring him home and I still had to sit there and watch him die. Do you know what that feels like?"

He knew Scott did. Scott watched Allison die in his arms, much like Derek had with Stiles. Except Stiles hadn't gotten to say any last words. There had been no comfort at the end. Derek watched Scott's eyes soften, the red bleeding out of them as a single tear slipped down his cheek. Then Scott shook his head, blinking hard.

Eyes still closed, Scott began, "If you feel that way...about Stiles," he looked up into Derek's eyes again, "then help me help him. Even just a little can make the healing easier."

The last time Derek had used his wolf abilities to help heal someone who was dying, he'd given up his status as an alpha. He had no power left to give. But if Scott wanted his help, and if it might save Stiles, then Derek would do what he could. He nodded and followed Scott over to the bed. They each took one of Stiles' hands, the pain immediately jumping from his frail body into their healthy ones.

...

...

Deaton came in about an hour later and dripped something slowly into Stiles' mouth. When the sheriff asked what it was, the vet had responded with an enigmatic, "Something to strengthen the spark," which seemed to make Scott happier but only confuse everyone else.

A moment later Stiles' eyes snapped open, his grip on both werewolves' hands tightening. Derek's heart jumped in his chest in shock and relief.

"Stiles," he said, squeezing back briefly. The younger male's heart was beating rapid fire but at least it was beating at all. At least his eyes were open. At last, Derek let himself believe that everything might be okay soon.

Brown eyes flicked to him as Stiles took heaving deep breaths. "Derek," he gasped out, then groaned, shutting his eyes briefly. "I think I'm in love with you," he breathed out.

Derek's brain screeched to a halt. "What?" he managed.

Stiles squinted up at him. "I'm dying. Just...thought you should...know," he said, voice weak.

The room was silent for several moments after that except for Stiles' still labored huffs. Derek couldn't bring himself to look up at the sheriff or Scott. Stiles' heart hadn't faltered. He wasn't lying.

Deaton chuckled once and seemed to break the limbo they'd all fallen into. Scott choked and the sheriff sunk into the chair, covering his eyes with his hand and giving a heavy sigh.

"You aren't dying, Stiles," the vet said easily. That was news to Derek.

Stiles turned his head to look at Deaton, the movement making him groan. "I'm not?" he asked, voice quiet.

Deaton shook his head once. "No. Not in the slightest." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Say it with me, Stiles. You're going to be alright."

"I'm going to be alright," Stiles repeated obediently. The next groan had nothing to do with his wounds. "Oh god that's embarrassing...Can we all just...pretend I never said anything?" Speaking sounded painful for him.

The sheriff shook his head, still covering his face. "I wish I could. My life was worrying enough before that revelation, thanks."

"And my dad heard," Stiles muttered, shutting his eyes. He took several deep breaths. "It's okay, Derek. You can kill me now." One deep breath was cut-off sharply when it pulled on his chest wounds too much. "I'm actually asking for it now," he cringed.

Derek let out a huff. "I'm not going to kill you, Stiles," he said, and was only mildly upset at how fond it came out. After all, he'd been upset that he ran out of time to tell Stiles he felt much the same only hours ago. He squeezed Stiles' hand again. "I nearly died trying to save you. It wouldn't make sense."

He got a moment of Stiles' eyes, still not entirely clear, looking at him in wonder. Then Scott pat Stiles' hand, still in his grip, and pulled focus. Clearing his throat, the alpha said, "You should get some more rest. We'll take care of everything."

As if his alpha wolf powers worked on Stiles, the human's brown eyes immediately began to close.

"Remember, Stiles," Deaton said. "You're going to make a full recovery."

"Full recovery," Stiles slurred sleepily. "Got it, doc."

...

...

Chris took care of the hunters. He called in favors with some of his own hunting friends, then approached the enemy group about their breach of the Code. Derek didn't know what went down at that meeting, who was involved or if anyone died, and he didn't care. Whatever was done had been done and that was that.

Stiles was never left alone while he healed. When his dad had to leave and Melissa was at work, at least one other member of the pack was there to watch him - either Scott, Derek, Kira, Lydia, Isaac, or Ethan. Stiles slept most of the time, though Deaton and Melissa both assured them all that that was normal. Though Melissa was shocked at how fast Stiles was recovering, Deaton wasn't.

"He simply needed to believe it would happen," he explained one day, mostly unhelpfully. What did that even mean?

He didn't heal overnight, but Stiles' frail human body was definitely healing much faster than normal. Instead of the possible months of recovery Melissa had originally estimated, Stiles might be fully healed in a matter of a few short weeks. Everyone was glad to hear it.

Derek stayed with Stiles a lot. The first time Stiles woke up and saw him there, his face had turned bright red. Then he noticed Derek was holding his hand and Derek swore that if people could explode, Stiles would've done it. Then it was just normal. Derek always held Stiles' hand when he was on shift. It was partly to show Stiles that Derek cared for him in return and partly to reassure Derek that Stiles was alive. Every touch to that warm skin reminded the born werewolf that he hadn't failed. He might have needed help, but he hadn't failed to save Stiles.

One day, as Stiles was drifting unhappily back to sleep - "Dammit, I sleep all the time, why am I still tired?" - Derek climbed into the bed with him. Even though Stiles was clearly expecting it, Derek didn't kiss him. Instead, he leaned their foreheads together and closed his eyes.

"I'll sleep too," he said simply.

He heard Stiles inhale sharply and then the warmth of his body curved ever so slightly into Derek's side, trying to get just a bit closer without pulling at his still healing wounds. Derek allowed himself to smile and he too sidled closer. His face landed near Stiles' shoulder and neck. Inhaling, Derek felt himself calming down and sleep creeping up on him.

Derek would let himself enjoy this for as long as it lasted. He didn't need to move for anything and it smelled like home.

_fin_


End file.
